


Open Heart

by CaptainTarthister



Series: Open Door [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cheating, Co-workers, Cunnilingus, Divorce, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light Bondage, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, RPF, Rough Sex, Sweat, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:06:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: “Look at me.” He grunted. “Look at me.”When had she ever looked at him enough? She never had. His beautiful face had little to do with her struggle. His eyes, dark pools that looked right into her soul, seeing all of her through the crash of bodies desperate to forget they had been apart, lips that never hinted at anything pertaining to love, even romance, but from which issued a voice that spoke the truest to her.
Relationships: Gwendoline Christie/Nikolaj Coster-Waldau
Series: Open Door [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637320
Comments: 16
Kudos: 67
Collections: Game of Thrones





	Open Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catherineflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/gifts).



> To my bestie best catherineflowers! Someone I will always admire and hope to be a bit more like each day. 
> 
> ******
> 
> If the tagged pair or the RPF tag failed to alert you, stop reading NOW.  
> Bear in mind that this is a work of FICTION. So quit whingeing about stories like this being disrespectful or thinking this affects the actors in any way. They have actual lives and better things to do. Meaning, in case you still don't get it, THEY DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT STORIES LIKE THIS.
> 
> Now go be useful and grow a brain cell.

It was, given the business the agency was in, nothing out of the ordinary when two actors it represented ran into each other in the hallway after a meeting. Assistants did glance up from their laptops to do a slight double-take at seeing Nikolaj Coster-Waldau. He was a lot more beautiful in the flesh, and nearly put to shame all photos of him. To think the man hardly bothered with clothes, having donned a graphic t-shirt that should look silly on a man pushing fifty but on him comfortable, even adorable, depending on the magnitude of the stars in the eyes of the few in the office. His plaid pants, despite the close fit that showed off his lean thighs, looked like pajamas. He wore old New Balance trainers.

The only person who seemed unaffected by this beautiful man was Gwendoline Christie, head thrown back as she gave one of her infamous, loud, crackling laughs. There nothing coy or even sexy about the sound. Gone were the slick hairstyles and kohled eyes. Her platinum hair was in big, natural waves grazing her shoulders. She was in a pinstriped shirt, straight-legged jeans rolled at the ankle and silver flats with brogues.

Once the surprise of seeing two of the actors from what used to be one of the best shows on cable television wore off, the assistants went back to organizing appointments, taking calls, the agents walking their prized clients to the door. Hardly did anyone hear Nikolaj insisting that Gwendoline ditch the car service the agency got for her. He’ll just drive her wherever she needed to go.

“Take me somewhere far from the sun,” she half-complained, putting on massive black sunglasses before climbing in the car beside him. She reached under the seat to adjust the seat to accommodate her long legs.

“I know just the place.”

“Think you can fly us out of here, princess?”

He grinned. “You’re sure that’s all you want?”

Gwendoline smirked. “Champagne.” She licked her lips. “Strawberries.”

“Who knew you’d be so classy?” He joked. It got him a light slap on the head.

He pulled out of the parking lot and made the turn back to the street. She tried to relax, to enjoy the air ruffling at her hair, the sun, which was so much brighter than the pale light breaking through the gray London sky. They didn’t exchange one word during the entire drive but there were looks. A lot of looks and when they dared, a hand releasing the stick to touch thigh during a red light. Fingers entwining on the next.

They were playing with fire. Or like one of those street entertainers who provoked a cobra into hissing and biting them. Insane didn’t begin to describe what they were doing. What they had done. She wished it was purely animal need that drew them, scenting each other’s desire to fuck and nothing more. It was easier.

But anything easy was boring. Easy was sticking to the life they had before that first kiss at the doorway of her hotel suite. That would be living half a life. For the first time, and largely due to Nikolaj, she felt alive. He also confessed long after the sweat had dried from their nude bodies that he had begun to live again—because of her.

It was better than any love confession. And she’d had plenty of those.

By the time Nikolaj pulled up in a residential street, Gwendoline was flushed and in need of a quick soak. L.A. was exciting due to its proximity to glamour, but it was also hot. Too hot, too bright. The street, a made a pockets of quiet under canopies of green was almost miraculous. The garage door slowly flipped up then Nikolaj eased the car inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a realtor’s sign.

The garage was bare save for cans of unopened paint and brushes, trays, shelves and cabinets waiting to be installed. As Nikolaj braked, she drawled, “So, is this it?” She lowered her glasses, peering at him over the top. “Kind of a downgrade for the princess.”

He chuckled. “Shut up. Come on.”

He took her hand, where she unconsciously rubbed the bare skin of a finger now devoid of a ring. He often lost it and had to get replacements over the years. It resulted in huge rows with his wife when he was home while Gwendoline teased him about it, murmuring in his ear that he wasn’t the first married man to ‘lose’ a ring. It had annoyed him, one of the few instances she saw the flare of his temper. A ring was just a ring, he’d said. Proof of a marriage, nothing more.

They entered the house through a door in the garage. The first room they set foot on was the kitchen, its walls bare and a narrow island in the middle. Nikolaj patted the marble slab countertop, muttering something about exchanging it for something bigger. He pointed at the sleek new fridge and oven, mumbling about the house already having electricity. Still holding her hand, he led her up the three short steps that he said was going to be the dining area. He was commissioning a craftsman for the table, wanting something modern but sturdy. And over there—

She laughed and tugged at his hand. “Are we not going to fuck?”

He seemed startled by her question before a smile spread slowly across his face. Her eyes softened sighting those deep dimples. Purring under her breath, she touched one of the skin indentations with a fingertip. He turned to suck her finger briefly into his mouth before releasing it with a slowness that seemed to stretch to a sweet eternity.

“Is that all you think about?”

His whisper was warm. It made her think of cuddles and tangled limbs. He leaned in as if to kiss her but drew away just enough. He loved to tease. “Am I just a cock to you?”

Two could play this game. She pressed her hand on his cock, pleased to find him hard, and even more pleased at his grunt and sharp inhale. “It’s been too long.”

“Didn’t I fuck you enough to tide you over? I believe you’ve lost use of your legs. _Christ_.” Blue eyes rolled to the back of his head as her touch on his cock firmed. She urged him towards a wall until he was leaning against it. Watching the slow spread of rapture on his beautiful face, she unzipped his jeans and pushed her hand inside. He opened his eyes and grabbed her by the chin. _“Gwen.”_

They kissed as her hand tugged at the waistband of his boxer briefs and played with his cock. He was taut and warm, as always promisingly long. Though their kiss was frantic, her hand rubbed him gently. Fingers circled the plump head. Cupped his firm, warm balls.

All of him was a _beautiful_ sensation. His warm lips and the arrogant thrust of his tongue—he tasted of minty mouthwash and meats and cheeses. Thick, bristly beard rubbed her cheeks, scratched at her chin. His hands moved to her hair, combing through the waves to fist them. She grasped his cock. He was so ready to fuck her.

It had been _so_ long. Too long.

“Fuck,” he muttered against her mouth. Then he released his hold on her hair to go for her jeans. Both forgot the jeans and boxers tangled around his ankles and he fell on her. She yelped, taking the brunt of their fall. Murmuring comforting sounds, he took her mouth in a slow, probing kiss this time. She sighed, clasping him to her chest before wrapping a leg around his hip.

Kissing Nikolaj was like eating, savored rather than devoured. They kissed and rolled on the floor, briefly taking turns to be on top, or on their sides, legs tangling around each other. Through half-closed eyes, they watched each other nip and lick, black pupils overwhelming blue irises when he cupped one of her tits through the shirt. Still kissing him, a hand around his nape, she unbuttoned it far enough to bare the tight peak of a plump nipple.

 _“Nikolaj.”_ In one word she poured every desire and need that felt only with him. He was the only one she trusted with such feelings. Her soft sighs and throaty moans echoed in the house. The wet slurps of his lips on her nipples seemed loud too. He licked them, mouthed them, pinched one of the wet tips a bit too hard to draw a cry from her throat that he quickly muffled with a firm, deep kiss. A hand continued squeezing her breast.

“I was going to fuck you in the bedroom,” he whispered, pausing from their kiss to speak before dragging a tongue across her slick lips. His hand lowered to her cunt, thumb skating up and down the zipper. She gasped and arched, feeling the heat and pressure of his touch on the heat radiating from between her legs.

“I don’t care where,” she breathed, plucking at the button of her jeans to release it. “Just fuck me.”

A quick kiss on her throat, another drag of a nipple between teeth then he helped her undo her jeans. They laughed and kissed, smiled then kissed then all over again in between kicking off her flats and yanking her jeans down. He chuckled against her ear, nuzzling her shoulder as she bent his leg to grab at one of his sneakers.

“ _Why_ are your laces double-knotted?”

She fell back on the floor, howling with laughter while he cursed at his sneakers. She continued to shake as he threw them off, cursing something in his language. Then he was back on top of her, taking her mouth in another searing, toe-curling kiss. She spread fingers on the firm thrust of his ass, caressing it before grabbing it. Their kisses sped up as their bodies surged, cunt dampening the lace of her underwear and the pre-cum from his cock wetting the cloth even more. Then he palmed her cunt, drawing moan and moisture.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, muffling their rushed breathing and the rustle of her shirt against his skin, his thick chest hairs, beard. She saw stars overtake the plain ceiling as he suckled her nipples again, now matched with fingers thrusting roughly in her drenched cunt. She was hot. From the inside. Like magma was building up and rising within her. She struggled slightly against him, wishing to angle her hips so his fingers would touch a particular spot in her cunt. But he was heavy and refused to release her nipples.

She tried again, startled by a snapping sound. Then he looked up at her, raised his head. With a devilish grinned, he showed his hand, on which the still-intact strap of her lacy panties twirled around a finger. She chuckled, seeing that one side was ripped.

“You know what to do,” he whispered.

In response, she raised her arms over her head then crossed one wrist over the other. He kissed her on the lips then bound her wrists with the panties.

He suddenly swept her shirt open, sending buttons flying. Then his mouth was back on her breasts, tonguing nipples so red and tight from his suckles before pulling them deep in his mouth again. His name was a breathless chant from her swollen lips, her entire body wishing nothing else but to be taken by him. To be his. She arched from the brush of his beard on her stomach. As he kissed further down her body, he spread her legs wide until the sides of her knees pressed on the walls flanking the hallway.

Highly sensitized already, she groaned her release from the first flick of his tongue on her clitoris. But he just chuckled against her hairy mound through her thrashing, holding her hips firmly as he laved kisses on the slick, inner flesh of her labia, pushed his tongue as deeply as it could go in her quivering channel. He licked and slurped. Lapped. Kissed. He even nibbled playfully at the plump folds before mashing his face between them to once again nurse on her clit. Her shriek echoed throughout the house.

She was weak and limp as he kissed his way up her stomach, her breasts, before sharing with her the cream of her cunt from his tongue. Kiss by kiss, he revived her, hands trailing up her arms to loosen the lacey bounds. She threw her legs high around his back.

In between kisses and nibbles, he gasped, “Let me go for a bit. I need to put my cock in you.”

Despite being out of breath, her eyes flashed as she growled, “I’m doing it.”

Hand on his chest, she pushed him off her. He lay on his back with exaggerated obedience, blue eyes twinkling as she climbed on top of his thighs. She watched hand travel down his chest, memorizing by feel the taut stretch of skin over muscle on one spot, the softer tuft of hair on another. Observing her, he asked, “What’re you doing?”

Her smile was rueful as she remembered the inevitable. “Memorizing”

His smile dropped and he took her hand. Twining his fingers through hers, he pulled it to his lips, looking at her through the kiss. She bit her lip as he sniffed her hand.

“Just as I remember,” he murmured. “Better to have it here rather than in mind.”

He kissed her hand and wrist over and over until he guided it past his navel, toward his cock. Together they rubbed him before she lowered herself on it. He gripped her tightly by the hip as she adjusted around him, wriggling slightly to ease a slight burn.

“Just as you remember?”

“Hmm. You seemed bigger in my memory.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s taking you ages,” she pointed out impatiently.

One hand on his chest and the other flat on the floor, she pushed herself up then down. His hands on her hips guided her to the tempo they preferred, a mix of desperate laced with tenderness. It had to be. It had been too long, and they didn’t know how long it would be again. Her name was a throaty sound from his lips as she clutched and stretched around him.

Why was the forbidden always so good, always irresistible?

They reached for each other’s hands at the same time, Gwendoline pulling his hands to her breasts to fondle, squeeze, play as she began moving faster, more urgently. Nikolaj grunted, pushing himself up inside her. He seemed to swell bigger. Got harder. Nostrils flared as their breathing sharpened.

“I’m close,” she whimpered. “Again. _Nikolaj_.”

“Look at me.” He grunted. _“Look at me.”_

When had she ever looked at him enough? She never had. His beautiful face had little to do with her struggle. His eyes, dark pools that looked right into her soul, seeing all of her through the crash of bodies desperate to forget they had been apart, lips that never hinted at anything pertaining to love, even romance, but from which issued a voice that spoke the truest to her.

And now his cock, probing so deeply. Wishing to wedge in her until it was impossibly to let go.

He came with a shout while hers was the gasp of someone breaking through the surface of a water. She squeezed her shut from the delicious burn of her clit rubbing against the base, his pubic hairs. His nails dug at her thigh.

He was panting. Face and chest gleamed with sweat. She was slick everywhere too, but especially in her cunt. She started to rise, to give him some relief when he caught her by the waist again. They looked at each other as his hand trailed up her neck, toward her nape. She leaned forward, pulled by his soft gaze.

“I’ve missed you so much, Gwen.”

*******

Because it had been months upon months, it was just impossible to stop touching. To stop fucking. He fucked her on what was going to be the dining room, gasping as his cock dug in and out of her cunt that the very spot they were on was where the specially-crafted table would stand. She had him fuck her throat in the designated living room.

Her mouth was still sore—she was still swallowing semen—when he dragged her to the bedroom. There, on a mattress still encased in plastic, he spread her legs wide for his tongue. She came with a sharp cry as well as a fistful of blond and graying hairs. He rested on her sweaty thigh, snorting with laughter as he rubbed the stinging spot on his head.

She needed more than a moment, more than an hour maybe, to regain some of her strength to fuck him again. But being with him, in just skin and sweat, laughter, there was little else she could think of doing. Her limbs were still heavy, weak, but she managed to drag him above her body. It took only one look for him to know what she needed. He wanted it too.

It was still fucking, what they did. His cock hard and sure as it punched into her cunt. She was soft, plump and swollen, very slippery with semen. But they moved slowly, almost carefully against each other, finding themselves in a dance rather than the usual hot clash. Clasping her hand to his chest, he kissed back and forth across her chin, tongue flicking at the soft skin that led to her long throat. She wrapped one leg around his back, the foot of the other flat and struggling for purchase on the sweat-slicked plastic surface.

Because she was still weak from her previous release, she wasn’t with him during the peak. She watched his slim lips pull back to reveal even teeth, the tip of a pink tongue as he arched over with a loud grunt.

After he fell next to her, she turned, resting her chin on a fist to look at him. He looked sleepy and content, but with eyes still bright and promising mischief. She smiled and kissed him on the shoulder.

“Let’s take care of you,” he said, hand lowering to her cunt. She shook her head, grinning even more as he cocked an eyebrow at her. “What’s going on, Ms. Christie?”

He caressed the dip of her waist, her thigh, making her jump from the sudden sting of sweat on skin scratched raw. He kissed the marks on it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll owe me.” She said. She looked around the empty room then back at him. “I can’t believe you.”

Though her words were admonishing, her tone was teasing. He blinked at her innocently. “What?”

“You fucked me in the bedroom. On the bed you’ll fuck your wife in.”

He smirked then chuckled. “Not that we do much of it. Does that mean you’ve never fucked another man in the bed you share with Giles?”

“He hides in the wardrobe to watch.”

He stilled. “What?”

She kicked him and he yelped. “Of course not!”

“The wardrobe thing or the other guy in bed?” He rubbed his leg.

“Both. I still keep my old apartment.” She snuggled against him, putting her head on his chest. He was still sweaty. His chest hairs felt rougher, but she rubbed her cheek on them, closing her eyes and humming under her breath. “What does she think? Of the house?”

She thought Nikolaj had fallen asleep because he wasn’t answering. But when she raised her head to look, he was wide awake. “Did you hear me?”

“My ears are still ringing,” he joked.

She tilted her head. He was still smiling but there was something tensed about him. “What are you not saying?”

“Do you like pancakes?”

Confused, she stammered, “Huh? Pancakes? Like, right now?”

But Nikolaj kept talking. “I know you like bacon. Bacon with scrambled eggs. You also have a weird love for baked beans on bread and it makes me question why I fuck you. You like Coke. It’s easy to feed you, actually.”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said slowly. “Nikolaj? Are you having a senior moment?”

He laughed. “No. I’m just—I’m just saying I know you. What you like for breakfast. I know that you sing show tunes in the shower. You like it when I tie you up.” He sat up, eyes shining as he looked at her. “I like fucking you. A lot.” He sighed. “Sometimes, when I’m at home with the children—and I love them, I love them to a degree I never thought possible and it’s only them I love this much—I love them, Gwen. But there have been times, so many times, when I wanted to just leave and fly to wherever you are.”

His voice broke then, and the strength seemed to go out of him in the next instant. She peered at him, unable to decipher if it was fear, anxiety or excitement causing her heart to race.

“Why doesn’t your wife know about the house?”

“Fucking you is no longer enough, Gwen.”

“Nikolaj. Tell me.” She grabbed his face. “Why doesn’t she know?”

Fear. Yes. That was the reason behind her frantic heartbeat. An inevitable she had refused to consider, that neither of them had ever talked about. She could only imagine the repercussions to their careers, his children, Giles—for he was good to her. He understood why she needed others the way she did, why she needed someone like him to return to.

But Nikolaj— _I don’t just need him._

“She wants a divorce.” Nikolaj stared at the wall in front of him. “I’ve agreed.”

“She—” Gwendoline shook her head. “And you—”

“We want it over and done with, but the law requires us to go into counselling.” His laugh was bitter. “Like that would fix anything. I haven’t. . .I haven’t loved her for a long time. I don’t know when I stopped. I just know I don’t love her anymore. But the divorce is happening.”

“You didn’t have to buy a house here. For fuck’s sake, how will you see your children? They can’t just exactly pop in for supper. You’re not exactly shitting gold bullions to charter private jets.”

He hung his head. “I know.”

“Then why? You can easily buy another house back home. Why here? Does this mean—”

She caught herself. No. This was _his_ house. He had fucked her in it. Her smell would linger for a while. But it didn’t mean—it couldn’t possibly mean—

“Do you like pancakes?” He asked again.

“Why buy a house here, Nikolaj?”

“Because here I can make you pancakes for breakfast. I can see the ocean with you.”

Gwendoline clutched at her heart. She was actually clutching at her heart watching Nikolaj rise from the bed and walk to one of the windows. He picked up something from the windowsill.

“Come here,” he said over his shoulder.

She slowly rose to her feet then joined him at the window. He had his palm up. The sun winked from the surface of the gleaming key.

She stared at it, mesmerized and disbelieving how something ordinary was potentially life-changing.

“It will be three months of waiting but I’m not changing my mind. I want to make you pancakes,” he repeated. “I want to spend the weekend with you on a Netflix binge as much as I want to fuck you.”

He held out his hand to her.

Gwendoline took a deep breath. In a few moments, the life she had, even the future she’d thought, would be gone. One object, one man’s wish, the secret yearning of her heart, once insistent flutters now reduced to an ache that sharpened every time they parted—little nothings summing up to an outcome she had refused to even consider.

And now it was within her reach.

Her hand wrapped around his. The key had absorbed some of his warmth. She tightened her hold.

“I prefer sausages. With baked beans and toast."

**Author's Note:**

> Couldn't resist inserting an inside joke, courtesy of my dear catherine. ❤


End file.
